


Wet and Wild

by ghostofnoodlewrap



Series: Vaguely interconnected fics where Jon and Martin are kinky [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (sort of), Aftercare, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Bondage, Canon Asexual Character, Consensual Non-Consent, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Omorashi, Rimming, Spanking, The Apocalypse is Cancelled, Tickling, Trans Jon, Trans Male Character, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25076869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofnoodlewrap/pseuds/ghostofnoodlewrap
Summary: People's kinks don't always line up. It's happened with some of Jon's previous partners and that's fine. It's not as if he needs to act on them to be fulfilled. But if Martin is interested...(Reading previous part of the series is not necessary, but highly welcomed.)(Please see notes for content warnings for individual chapters.)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Vaguely interconnected fics where Jon and Martin are kinky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808656
Comments: 41
Kudos: 244





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What up folks, the apocalypse is officially cancelled because it makes acquiring sex toys too difficult. And what's a kink series without a few sex toys?
> 
> CW: This fic contains graphic watersports/omorashi/bladder desperation, which I know is a squick for many people. This content is not in all chapters.  
> -Chapter 1 contains negotiation of a scene involving watersports, but the sex scene therein does not involve any piss. If you want to skip the negotiation, skip to the paragraph beginning "They sit for a moment in stillness and silence."  
> -Chapter 2 contains the scene discussed in chapter 1 and should be skipped if you are avoiding watersports.  
> -Chapter 3 is the aftercare directly after chapter 2 and depicts some of the clean up.  
> -Feminine terminology is used for Jon's genitalia.

After Scotland, London feels very loud. Martin wasn’t sure he ever wanted to go back until Jon pointed out that being so far from civilization as the cabin was could easily make someone feel intensely lonely. It didn’t feel so safe after that.

So they move back to London and Jon never actually asked Martin to live with him, they just ended up looking at flats together and picked out one that they felt they could make feel like home. There are two bedrooms, but only one regularly has people sleeping in it and the kitchen is always warm.

Jon emerges from the bathroom with his hair damp and curling on his neck. The steam from the shower snakes out in tendrils until he shuts the door behind him. Martin is sitting on the sofa and the television is on, not that he’s paying any attention to it. He’s got his notebook out and while the pace he’s writing at isn’t frantic, it doesn’t look like tonight will be one of the evenings where he sits tapping out a blob of dots where the next line will be once he can figure out what it’s going to say.

Martin leaves that notebook on the coffee table most nights, and open invitation for Jon to read his work if he wants to. Jon tried, once. It isn’t that he doesn’t get on with poetry, or with Martin’s style of writing, but the one time Jon tried, the poem was so clearly about him. It’s nice to know his boyfriend’s a sap, but there’s only so much he can take.

He curls up next to Martin on the sofa and Martin lets him worm in under his arm. Martin is still able to write, but Jon focuses on the late night television instead. It’s a terrible show, but sometimes it’s satisfying to watch trash. To know there are people more terrible than him out there.

Eventually, Martin stops writing. The notebook goes back on the table and he chooses instead to stroke through Jon’s hair. The show on the TV has switched to something that isn’t holding either of their attention. There’s been something playing on Jon’s mind for days, something he keeps putting off asking Martin. Now is as good a time as any.

“Martin,” he says, “I’ve got some, uh, kink stuff I want to talk about.”

“Oh.” He says, and his hand stops carding through Jon’s hair for a moment before continuing. His hair will dry frizzier than sheep’s wool if Martin keeps this up, but Jon can’t bring himself to care. “Do you have a scene you want to plan?”

“I do, but it’s a kink we haven’t talked about. It’s been a hard limit for all of my previous partners that I brought it up with and it’s alright if you don’t want to do it.”

“My limits aren’t the same as your exes, Jon.” Martin says.

“Where do you stand on bathroom stuff?” Jon asks. He peers up at Martin’s face to read his expression.

It isn’t immediately disgusted, which is a positive sign. A range of expressions cross Martin’s face as he considers it.

“I don’t want you to shit in my mouth.” Martin says and all Jon can do is laugh.

“Oh God no, I want you to tickle me until I piss myself.” Jon explains.

“Ah, that, uh-” Martin licks his lips, “that’s doable. Maybe elaborate a little?”

“It would be similar to the tickling stuff we do already.” Jon says. “But we start when I’m desperate to pee and keep going until I wet myself.”

Martin’s nodding along. He really got into Jon’s fantasy of being tied up and tickled and they’ve tried it several times more since the first time. Not every time they fuck, but often enough. And Martin’s acquired more playthings than just the rope they started with - there’s a nice set of padded cuffs for Jon and a small collection of vibrating objects Martin enjoys using on him. Jon saw a little of Martin’s search history by accident last week too, and he suspects a spreader bar will be turning up soon.

“Have you done this before?” Martin asks.

“Not in combination with being tickled, or with a partner.” Jon confesses. “I’ve done it by myself though, normally at the weekend. I’d drink a lot of water over the course of a few hours and hold it as long as I could. When it got too much, I’d stand in the shower and wait until I wet myself.”

He doesn’t tell Martin why he likes it. That the sensation of a full bladder is a half-step to the left of having fingers pressed into his clit. That it hurts, but in exactly the right way. The relief in letting it all go that’s almost exactly like an orgasm.

“I’m not sure we could safely do it in the shower.” Martin says. “ You struggle a lot when you’re tickled and you could easily get hurt in a confined space. But we could buy one of those waterproof sheets for the bed and put down some old towels…”

“Is that a yes, then?”

Martin’s hands slide down Jon’s neck in a way that makes him shiver. He takes Jon lightly by the upper arms and his fingertips stroke just shy of Jon’s collarbones. “It’s a yes. I think we’ve got a scene to plan.”

“Same sort of base as with the tickling thing.” Jon says.

“So in broad terms, I tie you to the headboard, tickle you, get you off a couple of times, and then fuck you. With the added bonus of you pissing yourself somewhere in there.”

Jon licks his very dry lips. The feeling of Martin stroking his hands over him is starting to feel distractingly good. Asshole probably knows exactly what it’s doing for Jon as well.

“It takes time to build up the levels of, uh, liquid I need.” Jon says.

“Is this an elaborate way for you to ask me to make you more tea?” Martin asks, but he’s smiling. Jon swats at him, but there’s nothing viscous behind it.

“You don’t tie me down until I’m already bursting to go. And you tell me to hold it, because you won’t let me go until you’re satisfied and have had your way with me.”

It’s borderline to some of Jon’s darker fantasies. The ones he knows Martin knows he has, but they haven’t talked about yet. The ones where Martin holds him down and breaches him even as Jon begs to be let go.

“What happens if we make it to the end of the scene and you haven’t wet yourself yet?” Martin asks.

“Well, the intention is you don’t actually fuck me until I already have. I think you might be overestimating the control I’ll have on my bladder when you’re tickling me. Anything you want to add?”

Martin keeps rubbing these little circles over Jon’s upper arms. It’s infuriating and it’s making both Jon’s arms break out into tingles. He thinks he’d kill Martin if he tried to stop.

“If I go down on you, can you please not piss on my face? I don’t think golden showers are exactly my scene.”

“I can give you a yellow if it looks likely.” Jon says, then barks out at his accidental pun. “For the record, I’m okay with you peeing on me. In general, that is, I don’t think that would really mesh with the scene.”

Martin makes a face at the thought. It isn’t particularly positive or neutral. Not something he’s particularly into the idea of or intensely turned off by then. It happens. Not every set of kinks line up, although he’s done wonderfully with Martin so far.

“If the scene is that I won’t let you up to use the bathroom until I’m done and then you can’t hold on, should I punish you for peeing in the bed?” Martin asks.

Jon’s mouth is suddenly very dry, but for all the right reasons. It’s not something he’d thought of himself (and he’s so so very glad that Martin is invested enough to make suggestions like this for the scene), but it’s a logical leap and oh so indulgently appealing. Jon bites his lower lip.

“I - yes.” He says, not trusting more words than that.

Martin pulls him bodily onto his lap and Jon goes with ease. One of Martin’s arms wraps around his shoulder tightly and the other comes around his waist and strokes the little strip of skin between his T-shirt and sleeping shorts. Martin tucks Jon’s head under his chin.

“How to punish you.” Martin muses into Jon’s hair. “I could rub your nose in it like a bad puppy.”

Jon’s nose wrinkles at the thought. His expression must be one of disgust, because Martin catches on quick and gives a different suggestion.

“No? I could edge you. Maybe not even let you come at all.”

“No.” Jon says. “While I feel like that would be a punishment because I wouldn’t enjoy it, the whole point of the scene is that I do piss myself. Therefore, the punishment must be symbolic and still something I’d enjoy. Something we’d both enjoy.”

“What about spanking?” Martin asks. “Just my hand and your arse.”

Martin’s fingers worm their way under Jon’s shirt and he squirms. “That,” Jon says, “is a frankly wonderful idea. I do like being spanked. Nothing too harsh though.”

“I’m not planning on whipping you or anything. I’m not trained to use a proper whip. I’m used to doling out some impact play though. I’ve used paddles, crops and switches before, but they tend to be more painful than just a hand.”

Martin drops a little kiss behind Jon’s ear and Jon shuts his eyes and wishes Martin would touch him more. It’s an important talk to get through, but he wants his boyfriend so much right now.

“You’ve done this before then?” Jon asks.

“I think I’ve forayed into BDSM a bit deeper than you have. There’s no pressure to try any of those things, but I’ll use them on you if you want me to.”

“Maybe another time.” Jon says, not entirely sure if he wants that or not.

Martin smiles, and he leans down to kiss Jon. His hand slides along the bare skin of Jon’s waist. Jon lets his eyelids flutter closed and tries to deepen the kiss, but Martin pulls back. God, Martin surely knows what this constant touching and stroking is doing to Jon. And in the middle of kink negotiation when they’re talking sex. He’s told Martin that while he might not feel sexual attraction, physical stimulation is a surefire way to turn him on and that his body is extremely sensitive.

“One more thing.” Martin asks. “Would you mind wearing some bottoms to start with for the scene? Something that will really show a wet spot if you catch my drift?”

Oh. So that Martin can catalogue the exact moment that Jon loses it. Somewhere lower than his guts gives an awful wonderful cramp at the idea. Martin will be able to see his shame from the moment it happens. Isn’t that a toe-curling thought?

“Of course.” Jon says with a tongue that feels heavy in his mouth. “All good.”

They sit for a moment in stillness and silence. Then Jon twists up to take Martin’s mouth with almost bruising force. Jon plasters one hand against Martin’s chest and the other curls into Martin’s hair. His thighs shake and tense as he groans into Martin’s mouth.

“Ah, Jon, what are you-”

“You have been stroking me for half a bloody hour. Are you going to tell me that you turned me on by accident?” God Jon hopes Martin is in the mood right now, because he is in the mood to fuck. He usually isn’t, so best make the most of it.

“Oh, I…” Martin can’t seem to find the words to finish his sentence, so he leans in to kiss Jon again.

Martin let’s Jon’s tongue into his mouth, plays with it with his own. It’s an awkward crane of the neck to get the angle and Jon knows his neck will be sore tomorrow. It will be worth it. Martin’s hands stroke down the bare skin of his sides with enough pressure that it doesn’t tickle, but Jon still squirms. The touch feels good against the harsh lines where his binder digs in during the day.

“Can I touch your chest?” Martin asks, and Jon can only nod and whisper affirmations.

Both of Martin’s hands push up and under Jon’s shirt. Jon closes his eyes, because it’s okay to feel this when he can’t see it. Martin pinches hard at both of Jon’s nipples at the same time and he can’t stop his hips from jerking. The reaction just makes Martin do it again until Jon is writhing against the cock he can feel hardening in the front of Martin’s trousers.

Then Martin slides a hand down the length of Jon’s body and under his sleeping shorts. There’s nothing beneath save the curls of Jon’s pubic hair, which the fingers skate through until they’re gliding over Jon’s clit. He presses down and Jon’s toes curl.

Martin’s hips grind in little circles, pressing his cock into Jon’s hip. He might have bruises there tomorrow (well, he won’t, supernatural healing an all, but a normal person might). Jon takes Martin’s fingers easily. The squelching sound his fingers make moving in and out of Jon is obscene, but then again, so are the sounds coming out of Jon’s mouth. The heel of Martin’s hand is angled just right for him to grind his clit into and at this rate he’s going to come embarrassingly quickly.

“God, you’re eager.” Martin whispers harshly into his ear, and Jon clenches down greedily on the offering of Martin’s fingers. He is very, very close. “You’re such a slut for it.” Martin says, and Jon is shuddering through an orgasm.

Martin’s fingers still, still inside him. He presses a hot wet kiss to the side of Jon’s neck, but Jon can’t manage much more than panting right now.

“So is that a thing?” Martin asks.

“What’s a thing?”

“Calling you names.” Martin says. “Like slut.”

“Apparently.” Jon remarks, because it did just make him come.

“Are you okay with me saying those things to you? Calling you a slut, my little whore.”

The words make heat coil between Jon’s legs. He groans, nods, and hopes Martin will take that as enough of a yes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Martin asks, as Jon has already come.

It’s nice that Martin appreciates Jon’s interest in sex might be fleeting, although they both know he normally goes for multiple orgasms when he’s up to having one at all. But even if Jon were done for the night - which he by no means is - he can still take satisfaction from pleasing Martin, even if Jon himself gains nothing sexual from it. It is apparently a concept he still needs to bring across to Martin, that getting his boyfriend off can make Jon happy without necessarily arousing him.

Jon answers Martin’s question by rocking down onto his fingers until Martin picks up the idea and starts to move them again. He closes his eyes and just lets the feeling build.

“God, I could pull down these shorts and just drop you on my cock and you’d just take it.” Martin says.

“Do it.”

“The condoms are in the bedroom though.” Martin points out.

Jon weighs it up in his mind. He Knows there’s no risk of disease or pregnancy (today at least) if he lets Martin have him bare. And to be that close with nothing between them - just the slide of skin on skin. But afterwards will be a sticky murky mess with Martin’s seed sliding out of him. Or worse, festering inside.

He hasn’t talked to Martin about how he hates clawing come out of his cunt or why the thought of it can send the wrong sort of shudders through him.

“Go get on the bed.” Martin whispers to him. His hands withdraw from beneath Jon’s clothing and urge Jon off his lap.

Jon goes, glad that the choice didn’t end up with him. He walks over to the bed while he listens to Martin stripping behind him. Since Martin is a little preoccupied, he takes a moment to fish a couple of condoms out of the top drawer of the nightstand. Then he gets on the bed and waits for Martin on his hands and knees.

Martin’s footsteps walk into the bedroom and there’s a little intake of breath when his boyfriend spots him. Jon doesn’t turn around, but he feels the bed dip as Martin climbs on behind him, feels Martin’s knees nudge his feet and thighs. Then his hands curl into the waistband of Jon’s comfortable shorts and roughly tug them down to bunch around his thighs.

The first slap catches him by surprise, the sharp crack of it registering before the pain. Jon gasps just as the second one lands on his other cheek. He waits, but a third one doesn’t come.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t resist. You love it though, you little whore.” Jon groans at Martin’s words.

Martin’s hands come down on his arse again, but this time it’s a grope rather than a smack. His fingers dig in just enough to give that sweet ache. Martin spreads his cheeks, presses them back together, then spreads them again.

“Have you ever been rimmed, Jon?” Martin asks.

“No,” he answers honestly, “but I do like bottoming for anal sex.”

Martin hums, a little contemplative surprised noise. Jon supposes that is news for him. Martin rubs gently over his arsehole and Jon’s cunt clenches around nothing, feeling very empty.

“I do too, just for the record.” Martin says. “Can I rim you?” He asks.

“Yes, I just showered, but I want you to fuck me in the front.” Jon says.

Martin doesn’t wait. His stubble scrapes a little over Jon’s arse, which Martin’s hands spread out, then his tongue is lapping hot and wet over his hole. It’s different to when Martin eats him out - not quite as sensitive, but the same sort of sensation as Martin licking at his clit, but also into him, opening him up.

Jon needs fingers on his clit and inside himself more than he needs his face held above the pillow. His shoulders drop down as he cradles his head in the crook of his left arm. Martin’s grip on his hips keep him from collapsing entirely even as that sinful tongue licks into him. Jon’s own fingers brush like fire over his clit.

His fingers aren’t as thick as Martin’s and he can’t angle them to get nice and deep while still keeping up the pressure on his clit. He adds a third finger to make up for it, pistons them hard and wails as Martin’s tongue pushes inside him. There’s no one thing in particular that pushes him over the edge this time, just a steady climb to the inevitable crest, which he reaches garbling something that might be Martin’s name.

“Nice going.” Martin says as he pulls away. “Do you think you’ve got one more still in you?”

“Might have. But I want you to come either way. Are you still hard?”

“How could I not be? Do you not know how sexy you are, Jon?”

Luckily the question appears to be rhetorical, because the answer would be ‘no.’ If their positions were reversed, Jon would doubt he’d still be aroused after eating Martin’s arse. No because of the act itself, but simply from the lack of stimulation to himself. As aesthetically pleasing as Martin is, and as deeply in love as Jon has fallen, looking at, tasting, and hearing Martin doesn’t tend to arouse Jon unless he is the one being directly stimulation. Being touched.

“What are you waiting for? Grab a condom.” Jon says, and he cants his hips and spreads his fingers within himself in a frankly vulgar display.

It works though, because Martin sucks in a breath and calls him a whore before diving for a condom. He gets in on in record time and then he’s nudging at Jon’s entrance.

“Alright?” He asks, and he’s in as soon as Jon nods.

Martin pushes in slowly, like Jon would complain if the stretch came with a bit of a sting. Not that he would, but it’s not going to happen after he’s been fingered so thoroughly. The pace he sets is slow too, but each thrust in is so deep Jon can’t complain.

Jon grinds slow and steady into his clit, because if Martin isn’t going to be a two-minute man on this, he may as well see if he can reach that third orgasm before Martin comes. There’s no guarantee of it, but Martin would probably get Jon off with his hands after if he does come first (a pity that it would be unhygienic to use his mouth now.)

Martin’s hands slide up Jon’s sides, stop high on his ribs. He never took off his t-shirt and Martin never asked him to. Probably for the best. Martin is proving now he can get to all the bare skin he wants to even with it on.

“You can touch, you know.” Jon says.

“I am touching you.” Martin says, and he pairs a particularly sharp thrust with a gentle squeeze of Jon’s ribs.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean?” Martin asks. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

Oh God, he’s actually going to make Jon ask for it. Shame should curl up in him at the thought, but it just adds fuel to the fire feeding his lust. He shouldn’t want this, but he can’t help it when it feels so good.

“My tits,” Jon says, desperate, “please touch my tits.”

Martin’s hands come down harsh, grope at Jon’s breasts and pinch his nipples until he’s mewling. He’s lost his grip on Jon, but it doesn’t matter because the new sensations get Jon thrusting back onto Martin’s cock. It doesn’t match the steady rhythm Martin has been building, but Martin speeds up his thrusts to try and match Jon.

God it’s so much better than before! His thighs are shaking, Jon realises. Not from physical exertion, but from how close he is. It’s always so much easier to come when he’s got more than just his own hand to achieve it. Martin’s breath is raggard in his ear and it’s a race to see which one of them will finish first.

“I’m not going to last.” Martin says.

“Neither am I.” Martin gives a particularly harsh little twist to Jon’s nipple just as Jon presses down on his clit and that’s it. He’s gone.

Martin follows not far behind, probably set off by the fluttering Jon can feel inside himself. Martin’s hips stutter, then he holds still a moment as deep into Jon as he can get. Afterwards, he sighs and drapes himself over Jon’s back, all heavy and grounding. His cock slips out of Jon as it softens.

They lay there for a couple of minutes. Jon can feel Martin tracing obscure little patterns between his shoulder blades. He runs his hand through the hair at the nape of Jon’s neck, where the baby-soft hairs are drying into gentle waves.

“Are you using the bathroom first or am I?” Jon asks.

The noise Martin makes can’t quite be called words, but he does roll off of Jon’s back. It suddenly becomes quite a bit easier to breathe, like that first rush of air after wearing his binder long past the recommended eight hours. Martin’s still got a doped up expression and he seems reluctant to actually stop touching Jon. His arm still lies over Jon’s back and Jon can feel Martin’s feet grazing his shins.

“I’ve got to pee so that I don’t get a UTI, and I’m not letting you kiss me goodnight until you’ve washed your mouth out.” Jon tells Martin.

Martin doesn’t seem inclined to move anytime soon, so Jon takes the first bathroom slot. Once he’s done, he leaves to find Martin waiting by the door.

“I regret getting out of bed.” He says.

“Clean your mouth and I’ll make it worth it.” Jon replies.

Jon’s never found the sounds of oral hygiene - gargling mouthwash and spitting toothpaste foam - to be particularly pleasant. If anything, he’d say they’re downright repulsive, so he doesn’t wait and listen at the door. He settles back into bed and Martin is back soon enough.

And the sweet kiss goodnight he bestows to Martin? Well, it’s worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW:   
> -It was pretty much all discussed last chapter. If you want to avoid the watersports, skip this chapter and rejoin at chapter 3.  
> -Some bladder torture.

Martin takes the empty mug from Jon. He’s made Jon roughly twice as many cups of tea this afternoon as usual, and there’s a large water glass on the table that’s been filled and drained twice. Jon hasn’t been off the sofa in hours, although on a normal day he would have been in the bathroom quite some time ago. From the way he’s leaned up against Martin, he knows that Martin is aware of the way he’s squirming.

It’s difficult to find a comfortable position, but moving is the worst part. His bladder cramps uncomfortably each time he does. Jon reaches the end of the chapter in the book he’s reading and decides he can survive until he reaches the end of the next one too.

Martin moves, standing up with the empty mug. Off to make another cup of tea, but Jon already has far too much liquid in him. The jostling of Martin standing makes his bladder cramp angrily. His body has needs that he is purposefully ignoring.

“I don’t need another drink.” He says to Martin.

“Are you sure?” Martin asks. “That is, are you ready to go. To the bed I mean. I’m pretty sure you’re ready to, uh, go, so…”

“Just a little while longer.” Jon says. “Just to build up an edge.”

Martin drops a kiss to his hair. “The bed is ready when you are.”

Jon turns a page. His mouth is wet and wanting, so he swallows. Martin’s arm settles around his shoulder and he ends up reading the same paragraph three times. He turns a page. His bladder twinges painfully. He flicks through the book quickly to check how long the chapter is. Roughly twenty pages. He might make that.

Martin is just sat there, watching Jon from over his shoulder. Watching him struggle to focus. Jon presses his legs together and can’t tell if the sensation it causes is arousal or desperation to pee. It’s probably a mixture of both. He puts the book down.

“Ok?” Martin asks.

“Ok.” Jon replies. “Let’s do this.”

When he stands, Jon wonders if maybe he overdid it, but he makes it to the bedroom without ruining the carpet. Most of the bedding has been stripped, although there’s a couple of pillows for his head that Jon hopes will be out of the splash zone. The sheet is still on, but when he reaches out to touch it, it slides strangely over the waterproof layer below. There’s a bit of a lump where his hips will go too, where Martin has wadded some old towels to soak up the worst of the damage.

Jon twists around to kiss Martin, open mouthed and hot and heavy. He takes a moment to curl his fingers into Martin’s hair and tug, just to hear the sound he makes, but it’s not important next to the goal of getting them both naked. Or at least close to it.

He tugs off Martin’s jumper and the t-shirt below that. Martin is able to get Jon’s shirt off much quicker than when he’s wearing a button down, and the comfortable tracksuit bottoms Jon put on are so loose that they slide off as soon as Martin shoves his hands below the waistband. Jon goes for the buttons on Martin’s jeans, but Martin just bats his hands away and brings the focus back to Jon.

“Can I take this off?” Martin asks, running his hands down the black fabric of Jon’s binder.

Jon nods, glad it’s a zip-up one, because he probably couldn’t handle wrestling himself out of a normal binder right now. Honestly, he knows he shouldn’t be wearing one at all, not for a lazy Saturday when his only plans were to sit around inside with Martin and he’s not in contact with any strangers he needs to pass to. But this morning, getting dressed knowing he’d have his chest out for the scene later on? Well, it just felt good to put it away for a bit.

Martin pulls the zipper down. It’s nice to be able to get a proper lungful of air. Once he’s got the binder actually off him, the terrible mockery of a waistcoat it pretends to be when undone, the only thing he’s wearing is a skintight pair of yoga shorts. They’re light grey, but Jon knows the fabric will be much darker once it’s wet.

“That’s a bit more than just underwear.” Martin says.

“It’s more area. For a wet spot.” Jon explains. “And I don’t have anything on underneath.”

Martin snorts a little, but both of his hands come up to squeeze gently at Jon’s arse. As Jon predicts, his exploration does not reveal any hidden undies. They’re so skin-tight he couldn’t even hide a G-string wearing these.

“If I take them down a bit to put my mouth on you, I’ll put them right back afterwards.” Martin says. “I want to watch you piss yourself and know the exact moment you lose control.”

Jon groans and covers his face with his hands.

“Is everything okay?” Martin asks.

“It’s humiliating,” Jon admits, “even just the thought of you watching me piss my pants. Let alone you causing it.”

“We don’t have to do this at all. Or I can take them off you if you like?” Martin offers.

“Fuck no.” Jon says, because his humiliation is at the centre of this. The tone he uses, the ‘please, I’m desperate for it’ makes Martin smile. Martin takes a moment to capture and hold both of Jon’s hands and the soft silly-sweet gesture brings heat rising to Jon’s cheeks.

“Then get on the bed.” Martin walks him back until the mattress is knocking against the back of Jon’s knees. It only takes the slightest touch to Jon’s shoulders to convince him to fall backwards. He wriggles sideways to get himself into position with the towels situated under his hips.

Martin climbs over him, knees sinking into the mattress on either side on Jon’s hips. It’s a good thing he hasn’t tried to put any of his weight on Jon’s stomach, because he’s honestly not sure what would happen if Martin tried that. Something would come out of him, although whether it would be shrieks of pain, piss, or both is anyone’s guess.

There’s a basket on the nightstand, and Martin reaches over and pulls the cuffs out of it. Jon peers over, but he can’t see what other goodies are stashed in there. Lube and condoms are a good guess, although Jon doubts the former will be necessary.

The cuffs are leather, and soft, but they restrain Jon well. They cost a pretty penny and so far have been worth every one. Martin buckles in Jon’s left wrist first, then threads the chain behind several bars of the headboard before taking the second wrist that Jon offers him. 

Jon gives a few tugs on his wrists. He’s secure. Not going anywhere. That makes it easy to relax.

“Colour?” Martin asks.

“Green.”

Martin’s hands come down on his armpits first and Jon can’t do anything but bark out a laugh. With his arms stretched above his head there’s no way to hide his pits from Martin. All he can do is submit. His neck is next, which makes Jon shriek and shrug his shoulders to try and get Martin off him.

“No, no, Martin. Martin, please.” The words come out of his mouth without any input from his brain. On the one hand, his body is telling him this is awful and he needs to get up and to a bathroom immediately. On the other hand, Martin touching him and the struggle Jon’s facing are exactly what he needs to get aroused enough to be fucked.

Then Martin’s starts on his sides. Jon tries to twist away from the hands attacking him, but he can’t get far and Martin’s fingers just follow as he goes. Every movement sends a jolt through his bladder and into his cunt. Jon knows he can hold it, at least for a little while, but that gateway is going to open whether he wants it to or not.

“Stop! Please let me up.” He says. “I need to pee.”

“I’ll let you go once I’m done with you.” Martin says. “So you’ll just have to hold it for now. Can you do that?”

“No, I can’t.” It splinters into a scream and Martin begins tickling him again, across Jon’s stomach. Even the slightest pressure there makes it difficult to hold out. Martin acts like he doesn’t care.

“That’s too bad,” Martin says, and he grabs ahold of Jon’s chest, “because you’re going to have to.”

When Martin pinches his nipple, Jon’s toes curl in on themselves. Then Martin flicks his other nipple and Jon moans. The sharp sting of it echoes in his clit. Martin laughs and tells him he’s a whore. Jon’s resulting moan is louder.

Martin attacks his sides and stomach again until Jon is back to trying to squirm away from him. Jon tries to tell him to stop, tries to tell him ‘no’, but it’s so very hard to form words at the moment. He’s breathless, dizzy and elated from panting hard, and desperate, although Jon isn’t sure if he wants to piss or come. He’s wet between the legs either way.

He presses his legs together, unsure whether that’s helping or not. It certainly sends a pang through him, although whether that’s due to his bladder or his cunt is anyone’s guess. It helps a little, although at prolonging or delaying the inevitable is anyone’s guess.

Martin’s hands come down roughly on his thighs. “Good sluts keep their legs spread.” He says and he wrenches Jon’s legs apart. “Do you need help with that?”

“You bought the spreader bar?” Jon asks.

There’s a slight pause before Martin says “I thought you agreed not to, you know, know things about me. Or the things I do.”

Which he had. And Jon keeps that promise, as much as he is physically and supernaturally able to. But that isn’t how he knows about the spreader bar.

“I saw your search history.” Jon admits. “You left a page of them up on your phone. I saw it when you told me to read you that curry recipe we had a couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh.” Martin says. “That’s, uh, my fault then. It’s under the bed if you want to try it? No pressure though.”

“Green.” Jon says. “So very, very green.”

“Oh! Okay then. I’ll just…” Martin leans over the side of the bed and pulls a long, thin rod from beneath it.

It’s a silver bar, with black cuffs at either end. There’s a set of cuffs closer to the middle too, which Jon supposes could be used on his wrists, if they weren’t already restrained. Martin fastens one end to Jon’s left ankle, then the other end to his right. It doesn’t feel as if his ankles are that far apart, but when Jon angles his knees in, he finds he can’t get his thighs to close.

“Okay?” Martin asks, and Jon nods. “I think I quite like it. I can just grab it here and-” Martin takes the bar in the centre and hoists Jon’s legs up. Then he twists it all the way to the point where one of Jon’s hips comes up from the mattress.

The journey up isn’t bad, but then Martin drops the bar and Jon bounces back on the bed. Each bounce is an agonising ripple through him and he whimpers.

Martin crawls back up Jon’s body and tickles him just long enough to get him begging again, just until there are tears prickling at the edge of Jon’s eyes.. His hand slips down between Jon’s legs and Jon moans at the first touch to his nether regions.

“These things really are indecent, you know.” Martin says. “They stick to every little crevice.” He runs his finger along the crease between Jon’s lips, which the fabric sticks tight to. Martin presses hard against the bump of Jon’s clit when he finds it.

“God please, Martin.” Jon begs. “Please.”

“What do you want, Jon?” Martin asks. His other hand moves to Jon’s lower stomach and he presses down gently, directly over Jon’s bladder.

The white-hot flash of pain is immediate. The hot brand of curling pleasure comes a fraction after it. He can’t hold it in. There’s no way he can hold it in. Jon wails.

“Martin please, I’ll piss myself. Please just let me go.”

“You know, I can actually feel how full you are.” Martin says, but he does let up on the pressure. “Be a good boy now and don’t piss all over my bed. Hold it in now.”

Martin does his best to pull Jon’s shorts down. It’s difficult with the spreader bar on, but he tugs them down far enough that Jon can feel cool air on his cunt. Then Martin is gone for a few seconds, climbing off Jon so that he can rearrange to have Jon’s legs thrown over his shoulders. His head slots in between Jon’s thighs, the shorts pulled tight around the back of his neck. Jon can feel Martin’s warm breath across his most intimate parts.

“Colour?” He asks.

“Green.” Jon replies.

“Give me a yellow if you’re going to pee.” Martin reminds him, and he’s licking his way into Jon before he gets an answer.

Martin’s tongue licks around his entrance for a little while before he earnestly tries to tongue-fuck Jon. It’s very nice, but better when Martin slides a couple of fingers into him which can actually get in deep. Jon bears down on them, trying to angle his hips so that Martin will hit his G-spot, but it’s difficult with his hands over his head and his feet both in the bar and over Martin’s shoulders.

That wicked mouth drags up to Jon’s clit and Martin seals his lips around it. Jon moans when Martin sucks on it, and again when his tongue swipes across its tip. Martin doesn’t stop lavishing his clit with attention, and his fingers give Jon’s cunt that impossibly good stretch until Jon’s hips are rising rhythmically with every thrust of Martin’s fingers.

It builds easily and quickly until Jon is on the brink of orgasm. Or at least he thinks it’s orgasm. Ninety percent. At least. Something is getting released either way. He clenches down hard on Martin’s fingers as if begging them to stay inside of him.

“Martin. Martin I’m going to-” The words can’t hold themselves together. Or maybe it’s just Jon who can’t hold himself together.

Martin hums and looks up at Jon. His chin is wet and shiny, his lips look almost swollen. He swipes his thumb over Jon’s clit and Jon is just gone.

He can feel the little gush of fluid that flows out of him when he comes and he tries to clamp down hard. But his bladder is still full and aching. That wasn’t piss, Jon realises. And it wasn’t that much more than a few drops.

“Did you just piss?” Martin asks and Jon shakes his head.

“I’m not usually much of a squirter, but...” Jon says.

“Oh. Oh!” 

“Congratulations Martin,” Jon says dryly, “you’re good at getting me off.”

Martin laughs awkwardly, and he drags the grey shorts back up over Jon’s hips. He smoothes the fabric down gently, paying special attention to the way it sits between Jon’s legs until Jon’s thighs are twitching at the overstimulation.

“Might be difficult to move these around once they’re wet, especially with the bar on your ankles.” Martin muses.

“It’s cheap fabric,” Jon says, “I don’t mind if you rip it.”

“I don’t want to ruin your clothes by accident.” Martin says. “I’ll be careful with them - unless. Do you mean, like, on purpose? As in tear them off you?”

“Yes Martin, I mean exactly that.” There’s a pair of leather cuffs around his wrists that are currently stopping Jon from facepalming.

Martin grabs a handful of fabric and tests its strength between his fingers. Jon thinks he might hear a seam pop, but he’s a little preoccupied by the way the fabric has pulled taut across his vulva. He shifts just a little and it’s putting delicious pressure onto his clit.

“I think I can do that. It doesn’t look too strong. Did you get them from Primark?”

“Martin.” Jon says, pausing until he gets his boyfriend’s attention. “Focus, please?”

“Right. Okay.” He says, and he digs his fingers into Jon’s stomach.

It takes a second for Jon’s brain to catch up to the things Martin’s hands are doing to him, then he outright squeals and tries to squirm away. Predictably, that doesn’t work and Martin’s fingers just follow him. Each time he moves, it sends a lightning to his lower zones and half of Jon’s energy right now is going towards not pissing himself. It’s a battle he knows he’s going to lose. And soon.

“God no, Martin, please stop. No. No!”

When Martin moves to his armpits, there’s tears in his eyes. Jon can feel them trickle down his cheeks. Martin must sense the end is nigh, because he sits back on his heels. So that he can watch, Jon realises. He stays close enough that Jon’s stomach and sides are still within arm’s reach, and he doesn’t relent in his assault.

“Martin, please! I can’t, I really can’t.”

“You’d better. You won’t like what will happen if you can’t hold it in.”

Jon tries, he really does. But Martin is tickling his stomach and as he tries to twist away from his hands, he feels the first burst of liquid gush forth. He tries to hold it back, but it feels like every muscle in his thighs and crotch and stomach are quivering with the effort of holding it in.

“Jon.” Martin says, and he reaches to rub at the warm wet patch between Jon’s legs.

He sobs, but the floodgates are already open. He feels the wet patch spread between his splayed out thighs, then lower onto his arse. Martin keeps his hand in place, keeps rubbing even as Jon pisses all over his hand. He’s not sure if the attention Martin pays to his clit makes him come, or if it’s just the sweet release of the desperation that he’s been waiting for.

It goes on for a while. Martin keeps rubbing him through it as Jon shakes and sobs until finally he’s empty.

“I told you not to do that.” Martin says.

“I’m sorry.” He replies.

“I’m going to have to punish you now. Do you know why?” Martin asks.

“Big boys don’t pee in the bed.”

“That’s right.” Martin says. “But I guess you’re not a big boy, so I think you deserve a spanking. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Martin reaches up to unbuckle the cuffs at Jon’s wrists. “I’m sure you’ll show me just how sorry you are.” He says.

Jon doesn’t have time to stretch out his newly freed arms. Martin gets one hand around Jon’s waist and the other on the spreader bar and heaves him up and around until he’s lying on his stomach instead of his back. There’s a little more of a twist and pull, and then Jon is settled lying over Martin’s legs with his arse in Martin’s lap. Martin’s still got his trousers on, but in this position it’s easy for Jon to feel just how hard he is beneath them.

The waistband on his shorts digs in as Martin grabs hold of it and pulls. Then he changes an angle and Jon hears the fabric rip. It makes his cunt throb, the fact that Martin is now literally tearing off the last shred of clothing he’s wearing. Martin makes another couple of tears before he’s able to remove the ruins of the garment entirely.

Martin strokes over both of Jon’s cheeks for a moment. He lifts his hand, but it’s only gone for a fraction of a second before it’s cracking back down hard enough to sting. Jon gasps, then catches himself just in time for another slap to his other arsecheek.

“I’m not sure of how many of these you deserve,” Martin says, “although I’m going to enjoy watching your ass turn rosy.” He lands another crack, this time lower, more on thigh than arse cheek. “I do have an idea though.”

Martin leans over, back towards the basket on the nightstand. He comes back with a small silver object, and Jon’s suspicion that it’s a bullet vibrator is confirmed when he turns it on. He presses it into Jon’s hand.

“You put this against your pretty little dick and I’ll stop hitting you when you come.” Martin says. “Uh, colour?”

“Green.” Jon says, and he presses the vibrator up against his clit. It’s intense, but in a good way. Martin’s hand cracks down on him and he jolts in response. With his free hand, Jon scrabbles for a dry section of sheets to hang on to.

Martin’s hands rain down in a steady pattern over his arse and thighs, and Jon loses himself to it. The vibe on his clit is working wonders, seeing stars and all that. Martin hits him hard enough to sting and the skin he’s slapping feels warm, but it’s not enough to bruise or do lasting damage. Unlike what Jon may have done to his kidneys earlier. His orgasm builds slowly and toe-curlingly good.

Each slap Martin gives him makes him jolt and gasp, makes him push against the vibe and the hard cock in Martin’s lap beneath him. If he focuses, he can even feel when Martin’s dick twitches. But it is so very hard to focus right now.

“I’m close,” Jon says when he is, “can I come now?”

“I think you can hold off a little longer, my dear.” Martin says with another slap. “You know, the next time I spank you, maybe I should put something in here,” Martin says, pressing a finger to the pucker of Jon’s arsehole, “that way you’ll really be able to feel it.”

“Oh, God.” Jon whispers, and he has to pull the vibe away or this would be over already.

A few more hits later and it’s back against his clit because it’s just too delicious to resist. He isn’t going to last, though. There’s no way he can keep holding off from coming for much longer.

“Please, Martin.” He begs. “Please let me come, I can’t hold it in.”

“You know,” Martin says, and he hits Jon hard enough that he yelps, “I’ve come to believe it when you say that. You can come now.”

Jon doesn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the words are out of Martin’s mouth, he’s over the edge and gasping for air. Martin rubs his sore arse through the aftermath. Jon comes down from it gasping and has to wrench the vibe away from his clit as the pleasure takes a swift dive into pain.

“Okay?” Martin asks.

“Yes.” Jon replies. “A little oversensitive though. Do you mind waiting a few minutes before we fuck?”

“That’s fine. Do you want me to tickle you again? Or I could get you a drink?”

“Just come and kiss me.” Jon says, not bothering to hide his smile.

Martin moves them over so they’re a bit more out of the sizable wet spot. As much as reusing old furniture is something Jon is fond of, he’s glad they decided to buy a big new bed. Martin kisses him sweetly, then deeper and with more heat. They can’t really tangle their limbs together with Jon still in the bar, so Jon settles for wrapping his arms around Martin and pulling in as close as possible.

Jon licks down Martin’s neck and bites lightly, playfully, at the juncture where neck and shoulder meet. Martin’s hands slide up Jon’s sides with enough pressure that he doesn’t laugh or writhe away this time. His fingers come to rest just on the outer swell of Jon’s breasts.

“Do you mind if I…?” Martin asks.

“You can touch.” He says. “Being in a binder for hours tends to make my chest a bit sore.”

Martin is gentle at least. He cups both of Jon’s breasts and squeezes carefully. “Is this okay?” He asks. “Would it help if I massaged them or something?”

“That would be great,” Jon says, “although I’ve got a feeling you’re now going to offer every time I take my binder off.”

“Only if you want to.” Martins says and he pushes his hands against Jon’s chest. It does feel nice. “Only ever if you want it.”

Jon settles down into it. He meets Martin in a kiss, slides his arms up and around Martin’s neck while Martin massages his chest. The arousal is still there, but not as urgent as before. Even still, every time Martin brushes over one of his nipples there’s an echoing pang in his cunt.

He tries to grind his hips against Martin, but the spreader bar makes it hard. He’s still helpless, only getting the gentle brush of the fabric of Martin’s trousers against him.

“How are you still wearing clothes?” Jon asks.

Martin laughs. “The moment these come off, I’m getting inside you.”

Something squirms low in Jon’s guts. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this eager to be filled with cock before. “You should touch me, then. Make sure I’m thoroughly ready for you.”

“But I am touching you.” Martin says, and he rolls both of Jon’s nipples between his fingers.

The physical side of the sensation is still good, still makes him clench down on nothing. But the mental side isn’t. With Martin’s hands on him, he can’t pretend his chest isn’t the shape it is. Squeezing his eyes shut doesn’t help Jon to pretend like it usually does.

“About that…” Jon says.

“Do you want me to stop?” Martin says. His hands slide down so that the only skin he’s touching is over Jon’s rib cage.

“Please.” It’s hard not to feel guilty about it, because it’s clear that Martin enjoys playing with his chest, but it’s also his body and sex isn’t fun unless he’s comfortable with it. Martin understands that. It goes both ways.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Martin asks.

“Finger me, stretch me out so that I’m ready for you.” Martin nods at his words. “Also, my hands, I…”

“Do you want me to restrain you again?” Martin says.

Jon’s shoulders are still a bit sore from tugging at the headboard. But those cuffs aren’t the only ones on offer. “The spreader bar has wrist cuffs, doesn’t it?” Jon asks. “Can you put me in those?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure!” Martin replies. “Do you want to be on your back or front?”

“On my back.” Jon replies.

Martin picks up the bar connecting his ankles and brings it up and back. Jon realises there’s no way to get his wrists down there without some kind of bending. “Knees bent, please.” Martin tells him, and when he complies Martin really pushes his legs back until he’s getting on for being bent double and his hips are coming up off the bed.

Martin secures his first, then his second, wrist in the velcro cuffs. Then he lets go of Jon so that he can position himself with as little tension as possible. The position isn’t exactly comfortable, but it doesn’t hurt and Jon suspects he won’t be in this rig for that long. There’s no way for him to straighten out or lower his legs (or close them, but it’s called a spreader bar for a reason) and there isn’t a position he can take while he’s like this that doesn’t leave him with his cunt and taint bared to Martin.

Jon takes a deep breath and relaxes as best he can. He hears the buzz of the bullet vibe moments before Martin presses it to his entrance. Jon gasps, and Martin teases him for a moment before pushing the bullet inside him.

The vibrations rattle throughout him. One of Martin’s fingers breaches him, pushing past the vibe, probing deeper. There’s a slick squelching noise and Martin moves his finger around inside Jon. Jon does his best to throw his head back as he moans, but there’s not much of a back to go to.

Martin adds a second finger pretty quickly. It’s more of a squeeze, two fingers and the vibe and Jon finds himself whining at the way Martin’s fingers press the vibrator against his walls. He keeps going like that until Jon’s thighs are shaking, then Martin digs the bullet vibe out of him.

“Sorry,” Martin says at Jon’s protests, “but it would get a bit crowded if I crammed another finger into you.” With that he slides a third finger into Jon and begins to spread them gently.

Martin uses his free hand to touch the vibe to Jon’s clit in little teasing taps. It’s so good, and he wants the thing pressed to him, but Martin seems intent on not just letting him come. The three fingers in him slide and stretch, and then Martin tucks his little finger in and presses that into Jon too.

The stretch is intense. Not quite too much, but Jon knows it would quite some work for him to be able to take more. He hasn’t been this full in a very long time.

“You do stretch out beautifully.” Martin says. His fingers slip deeper, just a little past the last knuckle and Jon yelps as they go in. “Do you think you could manage my whole hand?”

“Maybe?” Jon says. He’s really not sure. That would be a lot, but it’s also a good thought. Sadly not exactly what he wants right now. “But I want your cock.”

Martin laughs. He twists his hand in Jon just a little, just until he whines, before withdrawing. Jon’s left there feeling empty, probably gaping, as Martin quickly divests himself of the rest of his clothing. Then he’s back next to Jon, back on him, sliding himself perfectly inside Jon’s cunt. It’s too much, too right, and Jon shudders and comes on Martin’s cock.

“Oh,” Martin says, “was that…?”

“I think you prepared me a little too well.” Jon says wryly.

“Do you need to tap out?” Martin asks.

“No, just be gentle for a couple of moments. I want you to come too.”

Martin thrusts shallowly a couple of times, and when it’s clear the action isn’t causing Jon any pain, he sets up a slow and steady rhythm. Jon’s still a little on the wrong side of oversensitive, but it isn’t unbearable and he can tell the sting of it will fade pretty quickly, leaving only the delicious drag of Martin’s cock inside him.

“Do you think you’ve got one last orgasm left in you?” Martin asks.

“Maybe?” Jon replies. “I’m enjoying it either way. You can go harder if you like.”

Martin nods and starts to actually put his back into fucking Jon. The change in pace gets Jon’s breath hitching with every thrust. “Can I touch you here?” Martin asks, brushing gently over Jon’s clit. His breath isn’t exactly steady.

“Yes!” Jon hisses, the overstimulation faded enough that Martin’s fingers on him only feel good.

Martin grunts when he fucks, but Jon just gasps with hitching breaths as he takes it. He doesn’t have any option but to take it, not with his hands and feet bound like this, helpless to even lower his legs without pulling his back from the mattress, which he doesn’t have the energy to do right now. Even if his limbs were free, Jon would just wrap them around Martin and be taken for the ride he’s providing.

Jon’s near to the edge of the orgasm he wasn’t sure he’d get to when Martin comes. Martin sinks in with one deep and final thrust, comes about as far into Jon’s cunt as he can. His breath is sharp and harsh on Jon’s ear, like he’s just finished running a marathon.

“Do you want me to get you off?” Martin asks.

“Please.” He whispers, because he’s more than close enough for it to be worth it.

Martin’s thumb presses into his clit and Jon howls. He rubs over it in perfect little circles until Jon’s hips are lifting as best they can. Martin’s soft cock slips out of him and is replaced by several of his fingers and it’s like that that Jon sobs out his final orgasm of the night.

“Okay?” Martin asks, and Jon’s too busy panting to say anything back, so he just nods. He needs a moment.

After Martin undoes the velcro on the cuffs, Jon’s limbs fall to the bed like heavy lead weights. It’s unlikely he’ll be able to move for the next twenty years. Martin presses a sweet kiss to his forehead.

“Let me know when you feel up to moving.” Martin says, and he strokes over Jon’s forehead while Jon recovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I am not a health professional, I do know that holding your pee until you physically cannot anymore is not good for kidney or bladder health. I don't want to kink shame anyone, but please remember that doing bladder desperation regularly can lead to kidney damage, increased risk of bladder infections and UTIs, and incontinence problems.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW:  
> -(Mostly) non-sexual nudity  
> -Discussion of birth control options  
> -Said discussion is coloured by the fact that neither Martin or Jon received brilliant sex-ed

“You did very well.” Martin says to him once Jon has found the energy to move his limbs again. “The sheets are a bit nasty for cuddling in, so how about you go and take a shower and I’ll join you once I’ve put some new ones on and got the wash started?”

“I’m not sure I can walk right now.” Jon says. “You’ve done it. You’ve fucked me so hard my legs stopped working.”

Martin helps him up. He can stand and just about manage to walk, albeit on wobbly bowed legs.

“Okay?” Martin asks and Jon nods. “Go and start your shower. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

Jon walks to the bathroom and closes the door. The steam sets off the smoke alarm if it’s left open. He turns the shower up to full blast and shivers while he waits for it to warm up. He’s fucking disgusting right now, covered in sweat and piss and with Martin’s come slowly oozing out of him.

Oh shit.

They just went bareback. They went bareback and Martin came in him and now there’s thick clumps of semen inside him which Jon needs out right away. His eyes prickle and Jon tells himself he’s not going to cry.

When he steps into the shower, the water is scalding. Jon endures it, because maybe it’s hot enough to wash all this filth away. He squats down, jams a finger into himself and tries to spoon out what’s inside him. His breathing is coming in raggard and Jon tells himself that all the wetness on his face is coming from the shower.

The door opens and Martin comes in. Jon didn’t think about trying to lock it. He should have done. Martin doesn’t want to see him like this. He doesn’t want Martin to see him like this.

“Oh,” he says when he sees Jon crouched down with his fingers wedged inside his cunt, “are you not done?”

“Just trying to get clean.” Jon says, wincing when his fingers rake painfully. He doesn’t manage to keep his voice level. “You, uh…”

“I forgot to put a condom on.” Martin realises. “Um, are you… okay?”

“We both forgot about it.” Jon says. “I’ll be fine once I feel clean. I’ve just got to get it out. Don’t blame yourself.” Jon stands, because this isn’t a position that’s exactly comfortable and it’s certainly not comfortable to be in while holding a conversation.

“Only if you agree not to blame yourself either.”

Jon laughs, sharp and humourless. The onus of forgetting the condom may not lie entirely on him, but he’s still the one working himself into a tizzy over his boyfriend coming inside him. Like that isn’t a perfectly reasonable thing for a man to want. Like Jon isn’t a filthy disgusting thing until it’s cleaned out of him.

“You can say that, but you’re not the one covered in several bodily fluids. I can’t even conceive of why you’d want me like this.”

Martin is silent for a moment before he says “Can I come in?”

Jon doesn’t answer, but he also stands there and doesn’t stop Martin from opening the shower cubicle and stepping inside. The shower is big enough for both of them, but only just, and Martin has to crowd into Jon’s space to avoid touching the wet walls.

“Can I wash your hair?” Martin asks.

“I…” Jon weighs it up in his mind. Martin shouldn’t want to touch him when he’s like this, but that doesn’t stop Jon from longing for his lover’s touch. If Martin is willing, he knows he should take it. “Yes.”

Martin’s got enough height on Jon that he doesn’t need to lean down to get at the correct level for Martin to wash his hair. It’s longer than he’d like - nearly shoulder length and he’s taken to wearing a hair elastic on his wrist so he can put it up - but Martin went quiet and sad when Jon mentioned he was thinking about getting it cut. They might be able to come to a compromise and Jon can get the dry ends trimmed.

“It’s okay to be emotional.” Martin says as he squeezes a dollop of shampoo from the bottle. 

“Martin, I-”

“Let me finish first, okay?” He puts his hands on Jon’s head and starts to work up a lather against his scalp. “We just did a heavy scene. It’s normal to feel intense things after that. And it’s alright to want some aftercare and attention because of it.”

“I just don’t feel good about being so needy.” Jon says.

“You’re allowed to be needy.” Martin says. “I’m your boyfriend, I’m supposed to look after you and check you’re okay. So are you okay?”

Jon takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes against the bubbles falling from their perch atop his head. “I’m getting there.” He says. Then, after a pause “It’s not a hard limit, not using a condom.”

“You really freaked out back there, are you sure about that? It sort of seems like it is.”

Martin reaches up and re-angles the showerhead so that the spray is angled across Jon’s head. His hands end up back in Jon’s hair, although it’s not strictly needed at this point in the washing process. Jon doesn’t say anything. He’s enjoying Martin’s touch too much.

“Just a shock to the system. I wasn’t expecting to deal with this today.” Jon says. “I’d still prefer it if you didn’t come inside me, but I understand that accidents happen sometimes. We’d need an alternate form of birth control though. Speaking of, I’ll need to pick up some plan B in the morning.”

“Wait, you can get pregnant?” Martin pauses washing the bubbles from Jon’s hair. “I thought…”

“Testosterone reduces fertility, but doesn’t entirely kill it. Do you want to give the universe an extra way to screw with us?”

“It would, wouldn’t it? It so would.” Martin says. He picks up the conditioner that’s a bit too floral for Jon’s tastes, but Jon decides now is not the time to mention it. “Pulling out won’t be enough then?”

“Christ Martin, how terrible was the sex ed at your school!” Jon’s school at least explained various types of contraception, although most of it was focussed on all the diseases you absolutely would get if you had sex and showing the kids pictures of the diseased genitals they’d receive when they did.

“Uhh, really not all that good, as I’m starting to realise.”

Martin’s hands feel nice on his scalp. They massage gently. Jon tries his best not to feel like a cat pushing up against the hand petting it, but he’s enjoying Martin’s touch too much. The conditioner ends up spread in his hair perhaps a lot more thoroughly than is strictly necessary.

“I don’t know what I can take while I’m on T,” Jon says, “it’s been a while since I really had to consider birth control, but there are a few non-hormonal options.” Like a coil, maybe (and distantly the thought of the full on hysterectomy he will get one day, once the fear of a surgery quite that invasive washes off. And when he finds a doctor who won’t go ‘are you _sure_ you don’t want a baby first?’)

“I could get uh, the _snip_ , you know.” Martin says. “I think your hair is ready to rinse out. Do you mind if I wash a bit more of you?”

Jon shakes his head and moves until his hair is under the spray of the shower. Martin doesn’t stop touching him and moves on to washing his back. It’s easy to relax into his touch.

“Isn’t that permanent? It’s a little radical and I don’t want to take the chance of ever fathering children from you.” Sex ed didn’t teach much on that - it leant in very close that contraception was something that girls needed to consider, not boys. Or maybe it did teach about vasectomies, but Jon’s school split the class into girls and boys for sex ed and taught them accordingly, and back then Jon was on the wrong side of the classroom to learn much about penises.

“Why Jon,” Martin says full of inflection and clearly not serious, “are you interested in carrying my children?” His hands still from where they’re rubbing soap over Jon’s shoulders.

“Fuck no, don’t even joke about that.”

“Aight, aight, but I’m sure we’ll be able to figure something out for birth control. We could get one of those thingamajigs that squirts water up inside you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jon can see Martin make a sort of squeezy splashy motion that could mean anything from ‘pass the ketchup’ to ‘the geyser goes off in five minutes.’

“Squirts water- you mean a douche?”

“That’s what they’re called? One of those would work, right?”

No, Martin. Just no. Dear God, what is being taught in some of Britain’s comprehensive schools?

“No, those are just made for cleaning. And they’re really bad for vaginal health.” Jon says, internalising the wince. He’s not exactly sure what douching does that’s so bad other than it has something to do with chemistry. That was never really his strong point.

“What about your mental health?” Martin says. “Then, if I did, you know, if there was an accident, you’d have a way to clean yourself up quickly. It wouldn’t be routine use or anything, just a fail safe.”

That is, perhaps, a passable idea. The reassurance that it’s there as an option if something does go wrong is a good feeling. It’s not like he’ll be setting up a douching regime, and that’s surely what doctors are trying to warn you off.

“Maybe that will work? I’m not sure about it, but it can’t help to try.” Jon says.

“Speaking of washing, are you done below your waist? I’m running out of back to wash. Not an offer or anything, unless you want it to be, just want to make sure you’re ah, cleaned to satisfaction.” Martin says.

“I think so.” Jon replies. He was able to do his front and enough of his legs to matter while Martin washed the other half of him. “Turn around and I’ll do your back.”

“Can you reach?” Martin snarks.

“Fuck you.” Jon says.

“That’s how we ended up in here in the first place.” Martin says, and Jon swats at his shoulders. “I’ve got my front and legs, and I washed my hair yesterday.

That is something of a relief, since Jon’s actually not sure he could easily reach Martin’s head without him leaning down. On a normal day, maybe, but his arms are sore and sluggish from being tied. He can still attend to Martin’s back dutifully. It’s easiest when Martin bends over to wash his legs.

“Okay, so tomorrow we’ll pop to the pharmacy and pick up a douche when you get the morning after pill.” Martin says. He stands suddenly enough that Jon has to jerk back to avoid being clipped in the chin.

They take turns standing in the warm spray of the shower and washing the bubbles off. They don’t stop touching, even though both of them are clean now.

“We’ll probably have to go to several, you know? It’s nice to pass, but some places outright refuse to give it to men.”

“You’ve taken it before then? Sorry, I really shouldn’t have asked that. Your sexual history is none of my business and I’m just going to shut up now. I’ll turn the water off if you’re done.”

Jon nods and Martin turns off the water. He opens the door and the bathroom is cold outside the little steamed up shower cubicle.

“The side effects are pretty awful, full on hours of cramping and nausea. It’s better than a baby though.” Jon says. “If you really want to make the cashier horrified, we can get a pregnancy test and a wire coathanger too.”

“We see enough horror at our day jobs, so I’ll pass, thanks.” Martin says. “C’mon, I’ll dry you off.”

“That’s really not necessary.” Jon says, but he doesn’t stop Martin from approaching him with a fresh towel. It’s soft, and he lets Martin give him a few cursory pats before taking over and drying himself properly. There are levels he will not stoop to.

Martin laughs at Jon’s petulant face, but moves onto drying himself. “I put out your favourite pajamas on the bed.” He says.

“I don’t have a favourite pair.” Jon lies quickly. “And you don’t have to treat me like a child.”

“Aftercare is important, Jon.” Martin says. “And I’m not missing an excuse to dote on you.”

Jon’s not blushing. He’s not. The mirror over the sink is steamed up, so he can’t see his reflection and it’s easier to pretend it’s true. The air outside of the bathroom is colder still, but the pajamas Martin has laid out are thick and warm and feel like comfort when Jon puts them on.

“Thank you. I love you.” Jon says, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend.

“I love you too, now come and cuddle with me on the sofa.”

Jon’s book is still there on the coffee table. It feels like he put it down hours ago, but it hasn’t actually been that long. Martin flicks on the television, but Jon picks up his book. He’s always been more one for reading instead of watching T.V.

Martin settles on the side of the sofa he habitually occupies, and Jon sits down next to him and hisses as his ass meets the cushions.

“I might have to lie down actually.” He says. While sitting won’t be impossible, it will be uncomfortable.

“I didn’t hit you too hard, did I?” Martin says in understanding.

“Just right.” Jon runs his hand over his arse. It stings a little, but isn’t terribly painful. “I’ll be fine by morning.

Either way, Jon finds Martin’s lap makes a passable pillow, moreso when a cushion ends up under his chin. Martin’s hand is soothing carding through his hair as it dries, even if it does distract Jon from the pages he’s reading. And if anyone asked, he’d deny falling asleep on the sofa with his head tucked into Martin’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Sex ed in the UK is compulsory, with certain portions (e.g. how reproduction works and the changes to the body during puberty) being compulsory in the school's curriculum and examined in GCSE biology exams. Other parts of sex ed are not as strictly taught and vary from school to school.  
> -While unlikely, it is possible to get pregnant while on T (providing you have not had a full or partial hysterectomy).  
> -People on T can take hormonal birth control, but there are non-hormonal options available, including barrier methods and IUDs which do not secrete hormones.  
> -Douching is not an effective method of contraception. It is also not good for vaginal health as it can introduce bacteria, disrupt vaginal pH, and wash sperm and bacteria into the uterus. The vagina is self-cleaning and is capable of removing semen and other things by itself. If you notice discoloured discharge or an unusually strong smell, you may wish to talk to a doctor.


End file.
